


Spring Cleaning 2015: Avengers: Canon and Canon-Divergent Pieces

by Koren M (CyberMathWitch)



Series: Spring Cleaning (Abandoned Works) [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: April Showers 2015, April Showers Challenge, Canon Divergence - Iron Man 3, F/M, Gen, Not Iron Man 3 Compliant, Not Marvel Cinematic Universe Phase Two Compliant, Post-Avengers (2012)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-21 12:19:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3692040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CyberMathWitch/pseuds/Koren%20M
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abandoned works and stories no longer in progress for 2015: the Avengers canon and canon-divergent edition (which, let's face it, is most of my writing)</p><p><i>Chapter 1</i>: <b>Road Trip</b>: an alternate take on the attack in Malibu from Iron Man 3 (Clint/Natasha, Tony/Pepper)<br/><i>Chapter 2</i>: <b>Identifying Marks</b>: Natasha goes missing - Clint doesn't handle that well.  (Not actually death-fic, despite the implications.)<br/><i>Chapter 3:</i> <b>In a New York Minute</b>: Jane, Darcy, Betty, and Pepper on the way back to New York after everything changes (Jane/Thor, Bruce/Betty, Tony/Pepper)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Road Trip

**Author's Note:**

> An alternate take on the attack on Tony's home in Malibu (started based on IM3 trailers and rendered canonically impossible by the movie itself): Fury gets intel about a possible attack from an unknown aggressor and sends Clint and Natasha to make sure everything is alright. They arrive just in time to witness the attack first hand, sending the four of them (Tony and Natasha, and Clint and Pepper) on the run. 
> 
>  
> 
> _Or, an excuse to write Tony & Natasha, because it's my favorite platonic(ish) pairing._

The drive starts out at high speeds and reckless, but by ten miles out they've mellowed to a comfortable cruising speed. Even before, Tony was no stranger to taking curves sharply enough to threaten two wheels coming down Mulholland, and by rights he ought to be making appreciative comments (at least in his own head) about Natasha's driving ability, but that's shoved to the back of his brain for later. 

His house is gone.

Thank god for the cloud and remote server clones, which is JARVIS's only saving grace. Tony's hand slides over the thin rectangle of metal and plastic in his pocket almost involuntarily at the thought. All the old suits, over half his prototypes...

Dummy.

He tilts his head back against the passenger-side headrest and closes his eyes. He's got no idea where Pepper is, other than the fading glimpse of the white shirt she was wearing and her hair as she and Barton were running in the other direction.

"Where are they?"

He opens his eyes as he asks and sees Natasha's hands clench on the steering wheel. "She's with Barton," she grinds out, her eyes flicking quickly back and forth between the mirrors and the road but not looking at him.

"I got that. Where were they going? Where are we going, for that matter?" His voice is solid, it doesn't break or tremble and he mentally gives himself an extra point for that.

"I don't know."

"You don't _know_? You're the one driving!" It comes out sharper than he'd like.

"Exactly. _I_ am the one driving, Stark. So sit back and shut up at least until we stop for the night."

Since he thinks he can still feel the heat from the explosion on his face, because he hears the tightness in her voice, for once he does what he's told.

********

"What the _hell_ was that?!" Pepper is strapped in, but she's still trying to crane around in her seat to catch a glimpse of the scene behind them. She hates the shrill note that creeps into her voice when she's scared but it's never going away and she's learned to live with it (even embrace it on occasion because of the twitch it always gives Tony, just a hint over his left eye).

She doesn't know where Tony _is_ , just that Natasha had pulled him aside while her partner - Barton, she reminds herself - had grabbed her and then they'd all run like their lives depended on it. Which they had.

"Explosives. Rocket-launched grenade from the helicopter, probably. No telling until the bomb-squad gets inside and does eval and clean up. Not our problem, though." 

Barton's handling the wheel deftly but without any wasted movement, no flourish at all and she's used to seeing Tony drive this car and it looks wrong.

"Why aren't they behind us?"

"They went the opposite direction. It's safer to split up."

She's used to asking questions, to insisting and badgering until she gets her way or finds out what she needs to know, at least with people that she knows are immune to her power suits and killer heels. Now people usually do what she wants with just a look, because being CEO has that effect, but she's not above reverting to her old methods.

Not to mention she's scared. And when she's scared she has a tendency to... babble.

"Safer for who? For us? For them? Do we even know who just _attacked_ us, or why? God, the house... it's just... who the hell would _do_ something like that? No, nevermind. There's a laundry list. God. Everything."

What she meant was "our life".

Pepper falls asleep in the car after a few hours and he lets her sleep until they're well into Arizona and he stops at a drive-thru to get food. She dutifully pulls on his baseball cap and wraps up in his jacket so no one will recognize her, but out of the board room and press conferences she's _slightly_ less visible than Tony would be, so she doesn't have to hide . 

It's after midnight, but he knows his limits and they both need showers and she needs real sleep. He doesn't trust her to take a watch since she doesn't have the training, but it won't be the first time that he's slept lightly or not at all.

********

Natasha finally stops at a no-tell motel near Sacramento, even though still being in the same state makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up and the space between her shoulder blades itch. She would prefer to put another 300 miles between them and the blast radius. She would prefer to have intel and eyes and ears and access to the SHIELD resources she's come to appreciate even if she doesn't actually need them.

She would prefer to know where Clint and Pepper were, and that they were alright.

After a surprisingly brief argument Tony stays in the car while she goes inside and pays for their room. She gets it for a week and uses the credit card from a long-ago back-up alias that she keeps in hand for emergencies. It predates SHIELD (because she _doesn't_ need them), but Clint knows about it in case he comes looking this way. She moves the car and parks around the back corner of the building, away from the cameras she spotted even though the place probably can't afford to run them. Then, and only then, does she let Tony get out of the car and they walk to their room as if they're a perfectly normal couple stopping for the night. She even slips an arm around his waist and tucks herself against his shoulder and to his credit he doesn't even flinch.

Once they're inside he lets her go and starts pacing. The hours in the car are catching up to him and he's restless and on edge.

That makes two of them.

She turns on the light and when he looks down he sees his sleeve and the blood that's smeared on it. Sharp eyes jump to her and look her over and then he's grabbing her shoulder gently but firmly to turn her around. She sees him coming so she doesn't lay him out flat on the floor for lunging at her.

"Where are you hurt?"

"It's not bad," she says shortly but he's already zeroed in on the dark spreading stain just behind her shoulder and is reaching for the hem of her shirt to pull it up so he can inspect it. "Let go of my clothes, Stark."

"Take the shirt off. Do you have any kind of first aid kit in your - no, of course not. Because we don't actually _have_ any kind of gear bag. Hell, I don't even have a suit with me. I don't even have a suit in the same goddamn fucking area code!" It's a sudden and powerful realization and looking over her shoulder she sees it settle on him just how vulnerable he is right now. He's a master at compartmentalization and putting on a face for the crowd but even he has his limits. She should know, it's one of the myriad of things they have in common. She turns to face him as she shrugs the shirt back into place.

"Here's what we're going to do. There's a big box store a mile down the road. I'm going to leave you my gun and my cell number. Then I'm going to go buy us food, some clothes, and a first aid kit, and when I come back you can play nursemaid and stitch me up, how's that?" She doesn't particularly like having other people take care of minor wounds, but Clint's not there and she can't reach it on her own. If it's still seeping blood so many hours later it probably needs to be cleaned and sutured.

"I'm staying here why, exactly?"

The look she gives him says volumes. It clearly states that she knows he has an IQ higher than that and he's got to be kidding.

"You are one of the most recognizable faces in the country. What part of it being a bad idea for you to go out in public when someone is trying to kill you do you not get?"

He looks mutinous, but nods. "Point. Fine then, go on. Be quick."

With a shake of her head she sets her gun down on the table, confident that he knows how to use it, and rattles off her unlisted cell number for him. She picks up the keys and is halfway out the door when she hears a quiet "and be careful" aimed in her general direction.

********

"I'm sorry. I'm not even sure what to call you." Pepper is curled up against the headboard with her knees tucked up near her chin but her posture isn't defensive. If anything she looks comfortable that way.

"Clint Barton. We met right after New York."

"I know. I mean, I remember you. I just don't know what you want me to call you. Agent Barton? Or Clint, or-"

"Clint is fine. Or whatever you're comfortable with." He's sitting at the room's small table, staring at his cell phone and tapping his fingers against the surface in the only show of frustration he'll allow. Going completely blind has always been Nat's forte and now she's not here.

(He shoves the fear curling in his belly down as far as it will go because now is _really_ not the time.)

"Alright. But if I get to call you Clint, you have to call me Pepper."

"Pepper."

"it's Virginia, actually."

He notices that his foot is twitching slightly as well and forces it to be still. She won't call unless there's trouble. Not for awhile yet. No news is good news and all that crap. "I know. Why Pepper?"

"Tony's fault. He nicknames everyone. Usually it sticks. Happy's real name is-"

"Horace. Happy suits him better."

She stares at him unflinchingly and he's not sure how she manages to look like she's a fifteen year-old tomboy _and_ a powerful business woman simultaneously, but he thinks it's similar to some of the tricks Natasha uses all the damn time. He wonders if Pepper learned it from her during her brief stint as Natalie.

Nah.

"I know just as much about you, you know."

And that is why she's a killer in the boardroom. He arches one eyebrow at her. "Do you now?"

"Have you ever looked to see what's in your SHIELD file, Agent Barton?" 

"I'm aware of it, Ms. Potts."

She breaks into a smile, genuinely pleased but still dangerous. It doesn't matter that he could take her hand-to-hand in under thirty seconds, she's still dangerous.

"It wasn't just idle curiosity. I like to keep my house in order."

"Still haven't forgiven her, have you?"

A flicker of curiosity flares in her expression. "Who?"

"Natasha. For lying to you and Stark."

"Forgive? Yes. She saved Tony's life. She saved Rhodey's life."

"But trust is another issue altogether."

"Exactly."

There's another long pause and he watches her as she picks at a loose thread on the bedspread. 

"I trust her with Tony's life. I just don't trust her with my friendship yet. Or..."

"I get what you mean."

"She talked about you, you know."

It's the first thing she's said that's really surprised him all afternoon. 

"I seriously doubt that." Natasha was far too good at her job to endanger her cover that way.

"Not by name. In a not-so-rare show of... something unflattering, I was complaining about Tony being an ass and we talked for a little while. I asked her if she'd ever had a relationship with anyone that drove her as crazy as Tony was driving me at the time, all the time, and she got this smile on her face for about half a second and I knew. Then she said something about living with them versus jail time and we went back to the quarterly earnings report. But I knew there was someone, or had been. Then after it was all over, after New York, I saw you two together and I knew you were the one she'd been thinking of."

"You're... a very perceptive woman, Ms. Potts."

"Please. It's Pepper."


	2. Identifying Marks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha goes missing - Clint doesn't handle that well. (Not actually death-fic, despite the implications.)
> 
> _He had nothing of her. No symbol, no remembrance._
> 
>  _He refused to believe that she had defected, so logically that meant she was dead. That deserved some kind of acknowledgment, some kind of memorial or mark that she had been there. She had existed, she had_ mattered. 
> 
> **Early-ish partnership fic, pre-Avengers, pre-Phase 1, no spoilers for anything, Clint & Bobbi bro-ship, Clint/Natasha UST**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As with this whole series, this is un-beta-ed material from sometime in the last three years of feverish fic writing, that I'd rather post as-is than leave to languish. It is unfinished and no-longer-in-progress.

She'd been gone for forty-seven days. Forty-seven days past her intended check-in with no note, no message or communication of any kind, and no sign of her anywhere. 

He'd spent the first two weeks on edge, but waiting, because it had happened before. Missions weren't clockwork, things didn't always go as planned, and they'd both missed check-ins. That's what he told himself. That's what Coulson told him, what Hill told him, what Fury told him when he'd finally gone to _him_ for more information. 

He'd spent the next three going over every single scrap of information he could find about the mission she'd been on, all the intel they could get him to try and pin point what had happened or where she'd gone.

On day twenty-one, after he'd spent a week running around Central America talking to everyone he knew trying to get a lead, SHIELD called him back and he discovered they'd closed her file. It was the first time he'd ever thrown a punch at Fury, who'd laid him out on the deck. Bobbi'd picked him up (almost literally) and dragged him to his apartment, sat him down on his own couch and handed him a bottle of Jack.

"Get drunk. Let go. Rant, scream, whatever you need to do. Come to terms with this, so you can come back to work. Natasha wouldn't have wanted this for you."

"She's not dead. Stop talking about her like she's dead," he'd protested even as he'd wrenched off the cap of the bottle and taken a healthy swig.

Bobbi remained unphased. "She's either dead, or she's defected. Either way, she's gone. She knows not to go off radar this long without contacting us. That means she's either chosen not to, because she doesn't want SHIELD anymore, or she can't contact us. You're still here. Don't let her ruin your life, Barton. Fury will only tolerate that kind of behavior the once, and only because you're the best at what you do."

So he'd gotten drunk. He finished the bottle, then he'd gone out and walked for hours until he'd worked off most of the alcohol haze. It was three am and the neon around him was bright enough it might be daylight, distorted in the water clinging to the streets. The tattoo parlor on the corner was doing a brisk business despite the late hour.

Rule number one of being an international secret agent was the fewer identifying marks you had, the better. Fury would pop a blood vessel if he found out Clint was even considering it... but what Fury did or did not want him to do was about the furthest thing from his mind.

He had nothing of her. No symbol, no remembrance. 

He refused to believe that she had defected, so logically that meant she was dead. That deserved some kind of acknowledgment, some kind of memorial or mark that she had been there. She had existed, she had _mattered_. 

Inside, he flipped through the book of designs before a more rational part of his mind could intervene. None of them, as artistic as they were, were right. Her name would be a cliche, even tacky, and she deserved something better than that. Hell, who even knew if that had really been her name? She certainly hadn't. The only thing she'd truly claimed, truly owned (even if they, too, had been written onto her by the whims of others) had been her skills and the title that came with them. He'd asked, when she first decided to adopt the angular red symbol into her uniform why she felt like she had to constantly remind herself what she'd been. 

_"It's not what I've been. It's who I_ am _. Even if they molded me into this shape, it's my shape. I'm proud of what I can do, even though I haven't always done things to be proud of. I'm proud that I can do them, that I'm strong. And it's a warning. I'm not afraid. I won't hide._ "

When the tattoo artist asked him if he'd made a decision he borrowed a pen and a piece of paper. Even he could successfully draw the two red triangles, point to point, that made the design. He asked for the darkest red they had, and when asked where he wanted it to sit, there was only one place that jumped to mind. 

He went home afterward, and slept through the next day and half as well as most of his hangover. Bobbi finally found him on the range, methodically taking out target after target with ruthless precision.

"Decided to live?"

"I have things I need to do."

*****

On day eighty-five, while Clint was off on assignment, a team coming in hot from Bogota landed on the Helicarrier with three extra passengers. Natasha spent four days in medical and three in detention before Fury decided whether or not he believed her story. She claimed that she'd ended up a hostage during the kidnapping of a foreign national that intersected with her deep cover operation. She said that if she'd tried to leave, it would've put the diplomat's wife and child at risk. Since they'd both survived and backed up her version of the story, Fury relented, put her back on restricted duty, and Clint found her in the locker room shortly after he returned from his own mission in Chechnya.

Real. 

Alive.

He felt a ghost of the needles in his skin when he pressed her back against the lockers and kissed her. She made sounds against his mouth first with surprise and then with something else, and he swallowed them because he wanted to pull her inside of himself so she couldn't leave him again.

"What the hell was that?" she asked, half breathless, and he straightened the arm braced against the locker so there were a few inches between them.

"I thought you were dead," he managed, and watched something shift across her face as she processed that information. 

"Not defected? Some kind of traitor?" From her tone, he imagined how some of the other agents must have treated her, what assumptions they'd made about her in her absence.

"Never," he vowed, and it was a vow, just as much as the mark on his skin that she hadn't even seen yet. He wondered what she would think of it if she did. First though, was how she'd react to the kiss, because that was something new and unexpected. Five years into their partnership, and the only kissing they'd ever done was in a backroom in Santiago when he needed a way to slip her a key without anyone noticing. Beyond that, she'd never offered, and he'd never asked. She was perceptive enough he figured she knew how he felt about her. There'd been plenty of times that she'd caught him staring just a little too long, or a little too hard, but she'd always let it pass without an answer. He didn't do relationships and she didn't either, and they were so far beyond the realm of one night stands or friends-with-benefits it would've been laughable If it hadn't felt so heavy.

She stared at him for a long time, relaxed even though she was still between his body and the metal door, and in his right mind he would've known better than to hem her in. Her gaze didn't waiver from his eyes, and finally she laid a hand against his chest. She pushed, ever so slightly, and he took a step backwards and then another, let his hand fall to his sides, relaxed and open.

"I heard you punched Fury."

"He told me to stop looking."

"Why were you looking if you thought I was dead?"

He ran a hand through his hair roughly. "I couldn't just... I wanted to know. I needed to find you, to know what had happened to you, and you deserved it. You deserved to be looked for."

There was a stricken look in her eyes and she was silent, and for the first time in their partnership he realized she was speechless.

"I have a meeting in five minutes," she finally got out. "I..."

"Go ahead. I just- you know where to find me." It was lame, it wasn't what he wanted to say, and he wasn't at all ready to let her leave his sight yet, but there was nothing he could do about it. He'd placed the ball squarely in her court, and he could be patient and wait for her answer.

*****


	3. In a New York Minute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane, Darcy, Betty, and Pepper on the way back to New York after everything changes.
> 
> **Jane, Darcy, Betty, and Pepper in the aftermath of the Battle of New York, trying to get back to the city and to the people that they love. (Jane/Thor, Bruce/Betty, Tony/Pepper)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfinished but no longer in progress.

It starts with Pepper, who ends up stuck in the air for another three hours after the Chitauri are defeated and the portal is closed, until their jet gets so low on fuel that air traffic control had to reroute them to the airport in Boston. So that’s another six hours she spends in traffic (getting into or out of the city is a nightmare) before they finally make it to the police barricade several blocks from what had been Stark tower. When she realizes that there’s absolutely no way they’re getting through that mess tonight, she calls and leaves a message on Tony’s line to meet her at Stark mansion (which Happy probably still has keys to, somewhere). 

It’s dusty, and abandoned, and reminds Pepper of a museum that everyone just forgot about, but it’s on the far side of Manhattan and either the Starks had installed Very Good back-up generators or power is still on in this part of the city. Either way, there’s light, and (she hopes) hot water and a roof that doesn’t have gaping holes in it from strange alien demon whales. She was just starting to get used to ego-maniacal - _human_ \- super villains, but this is more than she was ready for, she thinks. Regardless, there they are, and she still hasn’t gotten Tony on the phone but she’s pretty sure that if something really bad had happened... wouldn’t someone have called? She thinks she would know in any case, but it’s still reminding her of Afghanistan all over again and she paces the foyer until exhaustion and Happy force her to sit down. She won’t be led upstairs to any of the rooms though. She’ll wait right there, right in the foyer as long as it takes until she finds him, or finds out what happens to him. 

*****

Next, there was Betty, who really hadn’t had high hopes for her day to begin with. She’d been in the middle of calculating grades for her undergrad biochem classes, and had spent a great deal of the last three days fending off the rather awkward flirtation of one Rob Cooper, a graduate assistant who seemed to think they would be perfect together. On the one hand, she didn’t really harbor any grand illusions about what a future with Bruce might be like or if it would even still be possible, given that she hadn't heard from him at all in the year since Harlem - but she’d learned from the last time that even if she found someone else, she would always drop them when (not if) Bruce returned. It wasn't her finest personality trait, she thought, but at least she was aware of it. 

Rob was very sweet, but he was starting to get on her nerves.

So she hadn't really been paying attention to the news until she heard footsteps charging down the hall complete with incoherent shouting that normally indicated some kind of a fight had broken out (and when the hell were these kids going to realize they were in _college_ and not junior high?) but she catches the words "New York" and "monster" and finds herself part of the crush trying to crowd into the lounge to get a glimpse of the televisions that are running those crawls with the "breaking story" banners flashing behind them.

She sees a flash of green flying through the air and crashing into something horrible that looks like pictures she's seen in paleontology texts or H.R. Giger artwork and her heart catches in her throat. He's *supposed* to be in another part of the world, hiding from her father and the army (and privately, she admits, from himself) but there's no mistaking that form. 

She's halfway to her apartment, the one she bought on her own after disowning her father, when her cell phone rings. The display shows an unlisted number and she knows it's the General. She doesn't answer. It continues to ring every few minutes while she climbs her stairs, packs a bag, packs up extra food and water (because she can only imagine what kind of a madhouse New York will be and she doesn't know how long it will take her to get there) and writes out a hasty email to her department head explaining that she'll be on sick leave until further notice. Somehow, given what's happening out there, she doesn't think anyone at work will mind.

By the time she's twenty miles out of town she gives up and turns the damn thing _off_ so that she doesn't have to listen to it anymore.

It takes most of the day to get up the coast to New York City. More people are leaving, but there are plenty enough trying to get to the action to snarl things up all along the Eastern seaboard. The fact that most air travel in the area has been grounded doesn't help. Betty counts herself lucky that she gets excellent gas mileage and hasn't actually had to pull off the road at any point, even though it's 2 am and she's only just reached New Jersey. 

The rational part of her brain tells her that even if that was Bruce, even if he's _there_ she doesn't have any way to track him down. The news feed on NPR is talking about aliens and _gods_ and the reappearance of Captain America after 70 years and of course Iron Man. Which leads to the ever-present discussion on Stark Industries and Tony Stark's personal life, because at this point everyone is just recounting the same however many facts over and over again anyway.

She knows it's a long shot, but even if he's not _there_ (and why would he be, she really doesn't expect it) then maybe, just maybe Iron Man might know where he _is_.

******

So Betty arrives in New York next, sometime around 8 in the morning the day after. It occurs to her she has no idea where Stark even lives, and knows there isn't any way she's getting to the tower in the foreseeable future with all the damage to midtown. She stops at a coffee shop in an area of the city that hasn't lost power and even has a wifi signal, and discovers that the rescue and clean up efforts being supported by Stark Industries are being coordinated out of the family Mansion just a few blocks away.

She doesn't bother to take her car and really doesn't care if she's in long term parking or not, the world is ending, Bruce might be nearby, and she's got more important things to worry about (like the army grunts she still half expects to turn around and find bearing down on her with trumped up warrants and cuffs). It's already spring enough to get hot by the middle of the day and she's sweaty and dusty when she turns a corner and sees the mansion there, still in remarkably good shape and swarming with people. She does what she's spent her whole army-brat life doing, she makes herself look like she thinks she belongs there, not actively challenging anyone but not appearing nervous or unsure, either, and basically walks in the front door in the middle of the controlled chaos. She finds a woman around her own age in the center of the flow, her suit still smart-looking despite the circumstances and not a single red hair out of place, and Betty realizes she recognizes her from the news, that she's standing a few feet from Pepper Potts, Stark Industries CEO and someone intimately acquainted with the man she's come here to interrogate.

"Ms. Potts?"

Pepper looks up and seems mildly curious, a sort of blanked polite expression that Betty knows from dealing with visiting faculty events where you don't know who anyone is but they know you and expect you to.

"I'm Dr. Elizabeth Ross, from Virginia. I know you're extremely busy right now, but I have something very important I need to speak with Mr. Stark about, as soon as possible. It's about a mutual acquaintance of ours."

"Dr. Ross, I'm really very sorry, but at this time, Mr. Stark is completely indisposed and we're in the middle of a crisis situation, so you'll have to-"

In her defense, it had been a really long, draining couple of days, but Betty kind of snapped then. "I'm looking for Dr. Bruce Banner, and based on the news footage, I think that Mr. Stark knows where he might be and I'm really sorry, Ms. Potts, but I've come too far and it's been too long and I am _not_ leaving here until I either see Mr. Stark, or Bruce, or someone can tell me where to find him," she rushed out, her breathing speeding up, her tone going sharp, and she remembered Bruce poking at her, offering to teach her breathing techniques when she went off on the cab driver the last time they were here. And maybe that might've had something to do why her eyes were burning and her cheeks were damp.

Pepper just blinked at her as she took that in.

"You're here for Bruce?"

She was using his first name, and Betty felt something in her chest expand like it might float away. "Yes."

"Come with me."

******

Pepper ushered her into a room off to the side and closed and locked the door behind her. "We've got about five minutes before someone comes knocking down that door needing me for something else. Now, you're Elizabeth Ross, as in the daughter of _General_ Ross?"

"Yes. Oh god, yes, but I haven't spoken to him in over a year, not since-"

"Not since he came at Bruce the first time, in New York," Pepper finished. "Okay - has he followed you? Does he know you're here, or where Bruce is? Because we can fight him, I think in between pots of coffee and what little sleep I managed to get him down for Tony's already been working on that one, but it would be best if we didn't have to fight on that front _now_ with all the publicity we're juggling out there. We were hoping to keep him under wraps just a little longer and ease him into the idea of staying first-"

"He's here? In the city, or here in the building-" Betty's mind was racing, she couldn't help it. "And no, god no, I didn't bring the General with me, I don't think he followed me but I honestly don't know. "

"Well, you're here now. We can keep you out of sight if we need to? Or, I'm sorry, I know you're a scientist, too, but that's really all. I don't know what kind of life or job you might have or need to go back to-"

"I don't. I mean, I'm a professor at Culver University, but I left a note for my chair that I was taking a leave of absence, because I didn't know what I would find. Or if... if he'd been here where we might go or for how long. I didn't really think beyond getting here."

Pepper gave her a considering look. "Bruce and Tony are at SHIELD right now, debriefing and dealing with some of the aftermath of what just happened two days ago. They'll be back this evening,"

Betty felt herself finally, _finally_ relax into her chair. "I can wait."

******

 

*****

Jane was neck deep in research, so of course it was Darcy who first realized something was very, very wrong. First, all the lab assistants just kind of... vanished. Then, several of the researchers wandered out (presumably to go looking for them) and didn’t come back. 

After the year she’d just had, and the fact that SHIELD had arranged for this trip at the very very last minute (with a great deal of urgency, although the guys that Coulson had sent hadn’t looked at all concerned as they were ushering them to the airport), this all made her very nervous. Jane was in that place she sometimes went to where she wasn’t really “hearing” anyone that tried to talk to her if they didn’t know the secret science code words, so Darcy decided to grit her teeth, grab a random (but very heavy looking) book she thought might be good to hit someone with if they needed it, and head down the hall to see if she could find out what was happening. She believed in being proactive, after all.

She passed a couple of men in lab coats and they gave her a funny, concerned look. While she was reassured that they weren’t running away from something awful, she was unsettled by the fact she was even on their radar. 

It was patently obvious when she turned the corner that everyone was (at least nominally) alright - people were spilled out into the hallway from the large break room, crowding around the doorway and trying to peer inside over each other’s shoulders. She had very sharp elbows, and had been trained to use them at many university functions (not to mention concerts) and managed to dig her way through to the front of the line.

Then she saw what they were looking at.

Despite SHIELD's best efforts to put them somewhere that they couldn’t access the outside world, even the far northern tip of Norway got a satellite feed with the BBC. The screen was full of a mid-afternoon scene in New York (it took the back of Darcy’s brain a second or two to think to make the time zone shift, she was getting rusty) - and... aliens? Giant alien space whales or trilobites from the look of it, but there were interspersed flashes of red and gold and even though the captioning was in Norwegian, she was able to read the words “Iron Man”.

Lightning tore through the sky in the background and a silver, red, and blue streak sped through the sky.

Oh shit. 

Jane was gonna be so pissed.

*******

It never ceased to amaze Jane how much SHIELD underestimated her. It amused the hell out of her how much SHIELD underestimated Darcy. But it didn't take being a genius to realize that her "sudden" request for help from Tromso had been arranged and was designed to get her out of the country. 

Despite their best efforts, aliens landing on New York wasn't really the kind of thing that anyone, even SHIELD, had been able to keep quiet - even inside their own facility. So it really shouldn't have surprised them that Jane and Darcy figured out - very very quickly - that whatever was going on in New York on the television screens in the break room was something that might concern them. To their credit, when Jane went storming into the facility commander's office, they'd folded under her insistence that she be allowed to see Thor pretty damn quickly.

*******

"Jane, please." Thor was in civilian clothing so as not to stir up too much attention from the rest of the research staff, though he would never be able to manage "unnoticeable". Jane had perched on his lap by choice rather than necessity - the rest of the lounge was blessedly empty. It was almost 5 am in Tromso after all, and everyone else that was up was probably still watching the news somewhere. 

Darcy yawned into her pillow and curled up a little tighter on the couch across from them. She knew she probably ought to go back to their room and give the two of them more privacy, or send _them_ back to the room, or *something* but she really didn't want to be alone. Jane didn't seem particularly eager to let her out of her sight, either.

"I just... New York? That's a big move. All my research is at the New Mexico lab and-" Jane trailed off and her eyes widened as she remembered that there wasn't a New Mexico branch anymore. "Well. That is... oh."

"I am not sure how much I trust SHIELD with your safety at this time, my Jane. Yours or our Darcy's. Tony has said you may continue whatever research you desire under his protection and that he will make every effort to keep your notes and work safe as well. I believe he is also offering greater compensation for your work as he says 'to boot'."

"I still can't believe that Phil is... gone. I mean, he was a suit, and he took my stuff, but."

"I shall miss him, also."

“And you’re *sure* that Erik is okay? I wish I could talk to him, and make sure, but they said-” 

“He is well. They are keeping him for observation for his head injuries, but I am sure you will be able to speak with him, soon.”

Darcy couldn't' really find it in herself to miss anyone, she was so tired she was numb. It was a feeling that had started when they were evacuated from the lab and had continued, exacerbated by jet lag and stress ever since. She wasn't sure how long it had been since she'd really slept, maybe a few days ago.

Silence fell over the three of them for a long while, with Darcy slipping in and out of a semi-sleep and Thor and Jane just enjoying being near one another for awhile. Sometime around 7, a SHIELD agent stuck his head in the door and advised them that whatever Thor had been waiting on was ready and they said their goodbyes. There was an awkward moment when Jane asked if they could go with him, but the SHIELD agent mumbled something about passenger space and policy and Thor told her he would rather she stayed well away until they were sure that Loki was back in Asgard, just in case so she relented and drug Darcy back to their room to try and sleep before figuring out the best way to get a plane back to the states.

In the end, even with nominal SHIELD clearance it takes them almost three days to get back to the States. Thor had told them to go and see Tony Stark, so that’s exactly what they do. Jane, who wasn’t really a fan of SHIELD to begin with, was ready to walk after finding out what happened with Eric and that she was kept in the dark about everything. Darcy isn’t exactly inclined to try and talk her out of it. Or rather, they end up seeing Pepper Potts, who apologizes and says something about being “in the workshop” but Darcy doesn’t really pay that much attention. She’s too busy gawking at the rather opulent mansion they happen to be standing in the middle of. 

By the time she’s done looking around, Jane is smiling and signing something that Miss Potts has laid out on the desk, then turns and holds out the pen to Darcy.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Jane gives her the look, the one that says “you’re very cute but you weren’t paying attention, were you?” 

“Mr. Stark and Miss Potts have very graciously offered us positions working for Stark Industries R&D branch, and I’ve accepted.”

“You’re offering me a job? Doing what?” Darcy can’t help but blurt out. Even with Jane’s move to SHIELD she’s still on the basis of college credit. No one had ever bothered to change that. Technically she’d been living off of part of Jane’s paycheck, because Jane had said flatly there was more than enough and most of what she was buying (food and sundries) had been for both of them anyway.

“As Dr. Foster’s assistant, of course,” Miss Potts (who might’ve said to call her Pepper, but Darcy isn’t sure she’s remembering that right and doesn’t want to risk it) says with a smile.

“I... but... what about school?” she finally offers up lamely. She really didn’t get enough sleep on the plane for this.

“You’re welcomed and encouraged to finish your degree - we’ll be happy to work around whatever schedule you need. Actually, that would be entirely at Dr. Foster’s discretion since you’ll be working for her.”

Jane smiles that 1000 watt smile that Darcy knows is why Thor fell in love with her, why Erik always indulges her, and part of the reason they were able to get through airport security so quickly when they finally made it stateside. She feels herself pulled in even though her brain is demanding to know what on earth she’s doing... but how could she possibly pass this up?

“You don’t think SHIELD will get mad and try to take your notes and stuff again?” she asks Jane because she can’t think what else to do, but she’s reaching out and taking the pen at the same time.

“We’re uploading the data from Dr. Foster’s notes into our private servers here. And Mr. Stark has an 'arrangement' with Director Fury.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, of course, this was completely derailed by actual canon, and while I have no problem writing AUs, I couldn't get a handle on where to go with this story once I saw how the real version came out. That said, I liked what I had so far enough that I wanted to get it off my hard drive and hopefully free up some creative RAM.


End file.
